


And we were broke, it's true

by stars_inthe_sky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), IN SPACE!, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Natasha Romanov, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/pseuds/stars_inthe_sky
Summary: Captive and tortured, Resistance spy Natasha Romanoff thought today might finally be the day she dies for her cause. She definitely hadn’t expected a Stormtrooper to defect, let alone that he’d look so good doing it.





	And we were broke, it's true

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasing_givenchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_givenchy/gifts).



> Happy Buckynat Secret Santa! The prompt was, "The most out-there AU you can think of," so I hope landing in a galaxy far, far away did the trick.

The pain almost feels like home, Natasha thinks.

She focuses on the electricity coursing through her arms and the blooming bruises on her shins, desperate to cling to any conscious thought that won’t give away anything to her captors. Her mercenary upbringing on Cantonica hadn’t covered would-be Sith Lords trying to unmake her mind, though—and the Resistance was still too naïve to think that anyone would try—so she has no way of knowing if her efforts make a lick of difference.

Technically, the First Head may be an insurgency, compared to its predecessor’s official capacity as the government of the galaxy, but it had Hydra’s goals, weaponry, and armies—why wouldn’t it be using the same tactics?

 _The Sith are gone_ , she reminds herself. _Even if he’s now on the Dark Side, Crossbones is no Red Skull_.

It’s scant comfort, though, when she doesn’t know what he’s ripped from her already or how to stop him from digging out more. All she can really do now is hope there’s something left of her when he’s finished—something that can turn around and finish _him_.

As suddenly as it had begun, the torture stops. Crossbones strides out of the room without a word, only gesturing to the Stormtrooper in the corner to keep an eye on their captive. Even if his heavy cloak and skull-patterned mask didn’t make reading his body language impossible, Natasha can barely focus her vision enough to see what damage Crossbones has done to her already bloodied and beaten body.

 _You are ionite_ , she says under her breath, not caring if the guard hears. _You are kriffing_ marble _. They can only break the breakable ones._ The mantra, a leftover from her best-forgotten childhood, spurs the same raw determination that had gotten her away from the Red Sun Collective. _I am not breakable._

With a few sharp, controlled breaths, she urges feeling back into her extremities. Every nerve stings, every muscle aches, but she can’t identify any major injuries; maybe the pain had all been a trick of the Force. Natasha can’t decide if that’s better or worse. Still, she knows can fight if she needs to—and she does need to, before the First Head realizes what’s on Lehigh.

Unfortunately, the thick binders wrapped around her wrists and ankles leave no room for negotiation, and her far-too-big fighter jacket is crushed and wrinkled uncomfortably all along her back, further limiting movement. She can feel her lock-picking tools pressed against her right hip and a slim knife on the inside of her left wrist—which means they hadn’t searched her half-conscious body—but she has no hope of using them in this position. All she can do is breathe, and look for another option.

None presents itself.

Natasha is on the verge of simply head-butting the next person to get close and hoping they fall in some useful way when the door hisses open and another Stormtrooper enters. “Pierce wants her. Now.”

The guard shrugs and her bindings unsnap—but there’s a blaster pressed against her temple in the same breath, and one of the troopers clamps cuffs around her wrists when she stands, stiff and wobbling. Those, Natasha knows, she can maneuver out of, but she needs a way to do it without earning a laser through her head for the trouble.

The newer Stormtrooper marches her out of the room; its gait is steady, but the hand holding the blaster trembles ever so slightly. She can feel the gentle shaking in her skin; the only question is how to exploit it. Before she can choose a course of action, though, the trooper points her into a service lift. The moment the doors close, it yanks its helmet off, and Natasha—her typical emotional control sapped—can’t help a small gasp.

In all her years fighting the First Head’s rise, no one she knows has ever seen a Stormtrooper outside of its armor; rumors circulating the barracks often suggest that they’re droids, or some subservient Outer Rim race, or mindless clones. The man beneath this helmet, though—at least, she thinks she’s looking at a human man—is clearly none of the above. His face, stubbled and sharply handsome, is deeply weary, but his blue eyes are alight with intelligence, and his determination is both palpable and infectious.

“Listen,” he says, in a voice raspy from lack of use. “If you do _exactly_ as I say, I can get you out of here.”

It’s then Natasha realizes the lift hasn’t moved yet. “What?” She sounds almost sleepy, she thinks, but maybe it’s just an aftereffect of the torture.

The Stormtrooper leans in, until his sad, lovely face nearly touches hers. “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape. Can you fly a Berserker?”

“Are you with the Resistance?” This is too convenient, she thinks; no one had mentioned any other undercover agents going into this mission. She starts casting around for a way out.

His eyes widen, and he grabs her by the shoulders. “What—no. I’m breaking both of us out! _Can you fly a Berserker?_ ”

“I can fly anything,” Natasha replies without thinking. She’ll manage, convenient or not, if he can get her onto a ship. Her so-called rescuer breaks into a grin, and, in a breath, his whole appearance changes, certainly for the better. She hopes he’s as he says; smiling, he looks so earnest that she might actually feel bad leaving him behind, if it comes to that. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” His tone is serious, but he’s a terrible liar—he just wants off Triskelion Base, and Natasha’s his ride. She grins anyway; this will be easier for them both if he doesn’t have a steely set of convictions to work around. And if they both survive this…she may have some follow-up questions, and not just about his defection.

“Sithspit. You need my help.”

“I need your help,” he concedes. Natasha hits the button on lift to take them to the base’s hangar, and he exhales in relief. “We’re gonna do this?”

“We’re gonna do this,” she agrees. He replaces his helmet, turning back into a Stormtrooper, but now that she’s seen his face, she thinks, she could pick him out of a battalion. He doesn’t move like the others.

Once they hit the hangar deck, he guides her toward an empty ship, his blaster still shaking gently against her temple. They earn a couple of double-takes from mechanics and other Stormtroopers they pass, but evidently the rank-and-file don’t notice her now-loosened cuffs. Her rescuer doesn’t say a word, so Natasha focuses on mapping out an escape route and trying to recall any and everything she’s ever learned about flying spacecraft.

Once they’re in the Berserker cockpit, Natasha pockets the cuffs for later use and settles into the captain’s chair. “Right, this should be pretty simple if a Stormtrooper can do it, right?”

She means it as a joke, but he looks stricken. “I thought you said you could pilot!”

“I never said pilot…”

His eyes bulge, as he’s clearly worried he picked the wrong prisoner to spring, but Natasha takes control of the ship and the situation. She’s escaped from worse places, with much smaller odds. “Sit. Start blasting them as soon as I power up. We’re gonna do this. Right?”

With a strangled moan, he lands in the gunner’s seat and starts fidgeting with the settings once the lights come on. She focuses back on the pilot’s controls; luckily, the system looks relatively straightforward. Releasing the tether and gas lines, she manages to get the craft aloft and pressurized within a couple of minutes; soon, they’re hurtling toward space.

Just as quickly, the First Head opens fire. The Berserker shudders as it takes a couple of hits.

She groans. “This thing really moves. Stay sharp, they’re—”

“I got this,” the now ex-Stormtrooper mutters. “Just—just get us out of here.” He whirls the guns around and counters every drone in their wake. By the time they’re clear of any immediate pursuers, she had the ship more or less steadied and on course back to Lehigh. The air around them stills for a moment as they both catch their breaths.

Natasha speaks first. “Nice shooting—we don’t see too many troopers with aim like that.”

“It’s actually easier without the helmet and gloves,” he admits. “You’re really not a pilot?”

“I’m a spy,” she explains. It’s nothing the people who control the First Head don’t already know, and she’s at this point pretty sure she’s made a new friend anyway. “But that comes with a diverse skill set, so I…manage.”

“Oh,” he says, in a way that suggests it’s never occurred to him that a person could be more than one thing. In fairness, it had taken her years to sort that out herself, once the Resistance had taken her in; maybe he’s just bought himself that same chance.

Natasha sets their course and cranes her neck to look at him. One of his hands is wrapped white-knuckled around his controls; the other is clearly mechanical. “Anyway, thanks for the rescue. I owe you—hey, wait, what’s your name?”

“BK-3391.” It comes out of him without thought, automatic and rigid.

“That’s not a name! That’s a serial number. You’re not a droid—are you?”

He shrugs, still scanning the stars for pursuers. “No, I’m human, but—that’s the only name they ever gave me.” It doesn’t seem to bother him, but the notion makes Natasha’s skin crawl. It’s too close to the inhumanity she had grown up with, too cruel to let foster in someone only just now escaping the darkness.

“Bee, kay, three…” she repeats. “Bucky! I’m going to call you Bucky, if that’s all right?”

He nods, apparently stunned by the gift of something so simple as an actual name. “Sure. Bucky,” he repeats, as if tasting it and slowly discovering he likes the flavor. “Okay, yeah.”

“I’m Natasha—Natasha Romanoff.”

“Good to meet you, Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you, too…Bucky.” She may have just concocted it out of loose syllables, but she likes the taste of it, too.

“Are—are we going to your Resistance, or…” He takes a deep breath, and then pauses to shoot a stray drone off their tail. “General Pierce had a theory about a rebel base out on Sokovia, but…look, I don’t want to be trouble for you. Just leave me somewhere they’re _not_.”

“Are you kidding? Trouble’s practically our motto. The Resistance could use a fighter like you.”

Bucky stares at her, eyes dark, though his body has relaxed somewhat. “How do you know what kind of soldier I am?”

“Well, you saved my skin. That’s all I need to—”

The Berserker shakes again, and they both groan. Natasha switches off the autopilot and ratchets them up to the fastest the craft can go, short of hyperspeed, while Bucky takes out more pursuers. “Natasha, where are we going?

“Lehigh!” she shouts over the blaster fire.

“No, no, no, we need to get _out_ of this system—” Eyes on the space before her, Natasha can’t see him, but his desperation is unmistakable. She can’t blame him for wanting to fly as far from the First Head as possible, but she has a mission to finish. If she plays this right, she won’t have to do it alone.

“I need to get my droid back before the First Head finds him.” At his squawk of protest, she continues, “If they haven’t already. That Crossbones can torture like I’ve never…”

Bucky makes a noise of agreement in between grunts as he shoots. “Yeah, he—he’s the reason I lost the arm. Froze up on the _last_ mission to Lehigh, so he made me an example. Which is why I’d like to get the _dwang_ away from Lehigh—and Triskelion Base!”

“Too late,” Natasha replies, hoping she sounds a little apologetic. That mission has to have been the one that had ended with her capture and a village slaughtered—so, while she’s relieved he’d broken through the First Head’s brainwashing and not participated, that means he had been bodily maimed _yesterday_ and put promptly back on duty.

“This is all for a _droid_?”

“He’s an astromech unit—purple, one of a kind. H4-K1; he answers to Hawkeye, though.” She’s not going to give him orders, not after what he just escaped, but she needs him to think of himself as part of this. “He has a map that leads straight to Peggy Carter—we need to get it to the Resistance.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bucky whip his head around so fast it bumps the side of his chair. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You needed my help before—now I need yours.” Another blast shakes the Berserker, but she thinks she catches a glimpse of his face. He might be hooked. “We’ll find a way back to the Resistance once we get Hawkeye, but until then, hang onto something!”

“Why?” Bucky cries, even though the rattling spacecraft is evidence enough that Natasha is no longer in control of the Berserker. They’re careening headlong toward the planet’s surface with no way to stop. “No, no, no, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Natasha switches on every safety and slowdown function she can find, willing herself to stay calm. Then, she turns to him. “Hey—this isn’t ideal, but we’re gonna do this. Okay? Bucky?”

“That’s—that’s me.” He inhales sharply and looks over his shoulder at her, then past her into the stars and toward the desert planet. “Oh—okay. Yeah. We’re doing this.”

Together, they tumble toward an old world and a new adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere on Lehigh, there's a lonely scavenger named Steve who doesn't know his life is about to begin.
> 
> Title is from Weird Al Yankovic's "[The Saga Begins](https://genius.com/Weird-al-yankovic-the-saga-begins-lyrics)."
> 
> All slang and curse words are from [this delightful list](http://starwarsrp.net/topic/22657-star-wars-insults-and-expletives-learn-how-to-curse-in-the-star-wars-universe/) by Cira.


End file.
